


A Very Fluffy Winter Veil

by Inksinger



Series: On Azerothian Soil [10]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Cat, Fluff, Gen, Quel'Thalas, Sin'dorei, Winter, Winter Veil, blood elf, hawkstrider, horse, pug, springpaw lynx
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:45:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inksinger/pseuds/Inksinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Halduron decides Aethas could use a companion now that things have settled down once more, and wrangles Lor'themar, Rommath, and one of the Farstriders into helping him get that companion into Quel'thalas in time for Winter Veil.</p><p>Featuring teeny tiny chapters!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Icy Winter Homecoming

Quel'thalas didn't get much show compared to most of the other lands among the Eastern Kingdoms. It didn't get much snow at all, to be quite frank, although the rumors that ranged abroad of some kingdom-encompassing spell that somehow allowed the land and its creatures to thrive in an eternal springtime were rather flawed and seriously exaggerated. Even the eternal lands of the Sin'dorei still needed the colder seasons in order to recuperate from the planting and harvesting of the year before--and more than one Dragonflight might be a bit peeved if magic was used to force that to change for the sake of _one_ immigrant species.

Still, at most Quel'thalas only ever received a cumulative two inches of snow during the entire cold season--usually only enough fell at a time to cap the trees and hills and cliffs. Rarely did the valley floor receive even enough downy covering to dust the pathways and roads with it, and if that much snow fell in one go it was considered a very heavy snowfall for the area.

When anything fell from the skies at all (and usually it remained only very windy and frigid, the grey clouds above pregnant but not bursting), it was more commonly sleet, or else hail that could become the size of a small child's fist. That, and the ice and frost that seemed to constantly cover the ground no matter what fell, tended to make travel in Quel'thalas an unsavory experience during the winter months, even travel from one town to its nearest neighbor.

The tame hawkstriders in particular despised the cold, their species designed to migrate south rather than remain as the year turned chilly, and often the already temperamental creatures would refuse to leave their stables in the cold--or worse, turn on anyone stupid enough to push them too far. This necessitated travel by foot, by portal, or by other beasts of burden, and while none were particularly difficult endeavors for those possessing the means to do so, most blood elves rather preferred not to bother at all unless the need was dire--particularly since even the smaller settlements had enchantments over them that kept the weather beyond their boundaries. Better to be warm, dry, and heckled by far-away relatives nagging for a visit from their kin than cold, irritable, and heckled even more for being too impatient and arriving by portal before guest accommodations could be made--or worse, for showing up on the back of a horse and looking as though one had taken a bath in the nearest rapids.

Even still, sometimes there were reasons to brave the icy northern winter that were not dire, but still important enough to move even very fussy elves out into the cold for longer than they would otherwise like. Sometimes it was worth riding through blinding, stinging sleet on the back of some beast less glamorous than, say, one's beloved but cranky scarlet-feathered hawkstrider; sometimes it was even worth having one's horse completely spook at the sight of a lynx the hawkstrider wouldn't even notice and getting sent flying into a half-frozen stream while the lynx and the horse bolted off without the rider or the bundle in her arms.

And sometimes it was worth spending the next five days tramping about on foot and muttering increasingly graphic death threats to one's employer while one's wriggling little bundle licked the ice off of one's eyelashes and eyebrows.

The end result wouldn't make the trip any less miserable, particularly since it would come _after_ she was done being miserable (and to a lesser extent because the ranger wouldn't be there to see the exchange for herself), but she knew who the squirmy bundle was for, from whom he would receive it, and why his Winter Veil gift was this particular sort of bundle rather than something else, and that at least made the misery somewhat more tolerable.

That did not mean the Ranger General was going to be any less dead by the time Eroeda was done murdering him for sending her out in the first place.

~*~*~*~

Five days later--after successfully placating Ranger Sunshadow with twice the payment in gold and bloodthistle he'd initially offered her and a second romp with her (the first having been how he had approached her several weeks ago with his request)--Halduron quietly made his way through the halls of the Sunfury Spire, carrying the lively cargo Eroeda had passed off to him close to his chest. Though the tiny creature squirmed about quite a bit in his arms, Halduron was more than capable of keeping him from making too much noise beyond an occasional snuffling sound whenever he leaned up to sniff at the ranger's face and neck.

It was imperative that no one else see exactly what Halduron was carrying, not even any of the guards--which was why he was moving the bundle _now_ , while the guards were still trading shifts and before the sun had come up. If word of what he was up to managed to get back to the wrong person, the Ranger General's surprise would be ruined... though he doubted very much that the recipient would be any less appreciative.

Getting through the hallways and passing briefly outside were the challenging parts; the night watch may have been growing weary and beginning to anticipate returning to their quarters to prepare to visit their friends and relatives, and likewise the early morning watch may yet have been shaking off the last dredges of sleep, but neither group would miss Halduron sneaking about the palace grounds if he wasn't careful. It was for this exact reason that Halduron had been given the task of actually delivering the creature, rather than Lor'themar (who, by his own admission, was no longer as stealthy as he had been prior to the loss of the Sunwell more than a decade before, and who had instead supplied the money to purchase the little animal).

Rommath was not the type to dole out gifts in the first place, and since he had been hard enough to convince to supply the amulet that had disguised Eroeda as she ventured beyond sin'dorei-friendly lands, neither of his colleagues had even attempted to broach the matter of delivering the gift with him. It may have been for the best, anyway; the man didn't seem to Halduron to be the sort who could put up with such an overly affectionate little furball.

Sneaking into the rooms of the creature's new owner was a significantly easier task. For one, the man still rather naively left his doors unlocked, likely because he felt far more secure in Silvermoon City than he had anywhere else--even before his world had gone to hell. For another thing, the younger elf slept like a rock compared to Lor'themar, whom Halduron was still frequently able to sneak up on despite his much sharper ears and instincts.

Perhaps best of all was that Halduron's target slept sprawled on his stomach, his head turned away from the door as the ranger slid carefully into his bedroom. Equally as fortunate: The hawkstrider doll the man still sometimes kept under his arm was this morning set safely on the bookshelf across the room, on the fourth shelf from the floor--far out of reach for the little surprise Halduron carefully set down on the foot of the bed, which immediately tried to gnaw on the thick blankets near its new owner's feet.

"No," Halduron told it gently; his voice was low enough that the other man didn't stir, but the tiny creature he spoke to immediately dropped the blankets and lay down, gazing solemnly up at the ranger with big, watery brown eyes.

"Stay there," Halduron murmured, backing away towards the bedroom door. The puppy stayed obediently, following him with its eyes until, halfway through the door, he hissed, "Alright, up with you!"

He was through the door and back outside before his surprise had managed to wobble back onto its feet.

~*~*~*~

The first thing Aethas was aware of as he awoke was the feeling that something with four very small feet was standing on his back and licking him on the face.

The second thing he was aware of was that whatever was giving him such a friendly 'good morning' had a very small, fuzzy face and smelled like clean dog fur.

The archmage opened the eye that wasn't smushed against his pillows... just in time to catch a warm, wet tongue across his cheek and eyelids. Crying out in surprise, Aethas sat up and wiped his face off on the heel of his hand, then looked down at the pint-sized furball in his lap in utter bewilderment.

The... puppy (he thought it was a puppy, anyway...) thrashed his stubby little legs for a moment, then managed to flop back onto his belly, stand up, and turn clumsily about to face Aethas again with a happy, high-pitched little bark. Tawny-furred but for his face (which, as well as being flat and squashed-looking, was a dark brown color from his little black noise to his little flappy ears), the tiny animal wasn't one Aethas was unfamiliar with, though it certainly wasn't a breed found anywhere in Quel'thalas.

But who on Azeroth would give him a pug, of all things?

It took the puppy hopping up to brace his little front paws on Aethas's chest (and attempting to lick him some more) for the sleep-addled elf to finally notice the bright red ribbon tied loosely about his neck. The card attached to it--which Aethas was only able to read by bribing the pug with a belly rub in order to make him stay still--read simply this: "Happy Winter Veil. This is yours to keep and to name. Be sure to keep anything you're particularly fond of somewhere he can't get to it."

No names were written to indicate who had given him the little bundle, but Aethas recognized the writing anyway--for each sentence had been done in its own very distinctive, immediately recognizable handwriting.

Smiling, Aethas loosed the ribbon from the puppy's neck ( _his_ puppy) and set in on the stand next to his bed. He would have to buy the little thing a proper collar later; for now...

"Well then, little master," he said, holding the pug up under his forelegs and laughing when the puppy leaned forward to lick him on the nose. "What on earth am I going to name you?"


	2. ...And Some Very Furry Chaos

~*~*~*~  
EPILOGUE  
~*~*~*~

"There!" Salandria exclaimed happily. "Now you both look all festive and ready to celebrate!"

Whiskers and Little Master both sniffed each other over from underneath the silver-and-red bows, big jingle bells, and gingerbread-people cutouts the elfling had spent the last half hour putting together and then securing to the backs of their collars. Evidently neither objected to the ornaments, for while they didn't try to eat the scarlet blossoms, neither did they try to pull or scratch or shake them off.

Aethas was off at the big state dinner with all the other lords and ladies, and since Liadrin still deemed her ward too young to attend such formal events (though Salandria found it odd that she _was_ considered old enough to wander the castle alone), the archmage had asked Salandria to look after Little Master for him until the feast had ended and all the nobles who didn't live at the Spire had left.

Salandria had eagerly agreed; she liked the red-haired mage much better than boring, prickly Rommath, and she thought Little Master was probably the only thing anywhere nearly as sweet and adorable as Whiskers. And besides, so far they had both been very well-behaved, and seemed to take to each other right away.

"I think we should go out and walk around," Salandria announced, "so we can show off your pretty bows to all the guards!"

Whiskers and Little Master didn't have much choice in the matter--she scooped up one in each arm, and headed merrily off through the Spire, showing off the festive creatures to anyone and everyone she encountered. The guards were well used to this sort of thing; Whiskers spent the majority of the time he wasn't getting himself tangled up or knocked over or fallen on taking the role of Salandria's furry dress-up doll, and it seemed Little Master was going to be stuck in the same role as often as Salandria was allowed to watch him.

Salandria had just decided she should return to her and Liadrin's quarters when the trouble started. They had managed to wander far too close to the giant kitchens while the main courses were still being prepared, and unfortunately Little Master chose that exact moment to decide he was hungry again.

Before Salandria could get hold of his collar, the pug wriggled free of her arm and went ricocheting off towards the kitchen, making fantastic time even though he fell over every few bounds. Whiskers slipped loose a second later, bolting after his new playmate before Salandria could catch him.

With a cry, the elfling charged after the two wayward animals, shoving through the heavy kitchen doors and running around and between the cooks and servers inside as one by one they became aware of the thee noisy intruders and turned to chase them back out the way they had come. Unfortunately, they made the mistake of trying to get hold of Salandria first; they only changed course and started trying to help her capture her animals when Whiskers scrambled up onto a counter and fell headlong into a sink full of cold water.

Out in the adjoining banquet hall, those closest to the kitchen doors--namely, Lor'themar, Rommath, Halduron, Liadrin, and Aethas--heard the rising commotion first and shot each other surreptitious glances across the table. Only when the noise became enough that their guests began to hear it as well did Lor'themar motion for one of the tableside servants to go see what in the world was going on.

The man bowed his head and moved briskly towards the kitchen doors--just in time for both of them to fly open, knocking him over as Little Master and Whiskers came charging out, both grasping large hunks of stolen food in their teeth. A moment later Salandria came barreling out, followed by three kitchen servants and the head chef. All five of these latter were shouting after the animals at the tops of their lungs--a jumble of Thalassian and Common, curses and pleas.

Rommath turned and glared daggers at Aethas; the effect was lost on the younger mage, who (like most of the rest of those in attendance) was staring at the undoing chaos like a fish stranded on dry land.

"Don't you dare--" Rommath started to snarl. It was too late; Aethas had already leapt up and was now _also_ chasing the animals around the tables, tripping over his fine winter robes and stirring up a swell of raucous laughter from the guests who had already recovered from the initial shock. Tae'thelan, seated at the high table two chairs down from Liadrin, even stuck his foot out and sent Aethas flying off the dias when he bolted past the High Examiner's chair in hot pursuit of Little Master. It would have been a seamless stunt, had Tae'thelan taken Halduron's sharp eyes and propensity for mischief into account and worked to avoid drawing both to himself.

Sadly, he had not--and Halduron saw him pull his foot back under his chair while everyone else watched Aethas hit the floor belly-first. Taking advantage of the attention shift, Halduron picked up a piece of meat, waved it where Little Master could see it, and then sent it sailing right into Tae'thelan's hair.

"Halduron..." Lor'themar growled beside him. The Regent Lord spoke through unmoving lips, and was trying to look every bit as outraged as the rest of the assembly were going to be once they were done cackling at the circus the feast had turned into. To Halduron's other side, Liadrin had buried her face in her hands, and her shoulders shook violently--with laughter.

The damage was done: Both Whiskers and Little Master had seen the food go flying, and before Tae'thelan could peel it from his hair the animals charged him from opposite sides and leapt onto him with such force that High Examiner, kitten, and pug went flying backwards in a tangle of limbs, fur, and fine silk.

"Wait, catch them, Tae!" Salandria shouted as she raced back onto the dias again. Unfortunately, Tae'thelan was too busy shrieking indignantly and flailing about on the floor to catch either of the animals, and the minute Little Master had snagged the strip of roast boar from the man's hair, both he and Whiskers charged off in different directions again.

Little Master ran back towards Salandria, sliding between her legs and knocking her over before leaping down onto Aethas, who (as all of this had happened in the space of a few seconds) had only just dragged himself back onto his hands and knees. Pug and archmage collapsed to the floor in a heap, to the sound of a renewed chorus of guffaws and jeers.

At the same time that this was happening, Whiskers had leapt up onto Tae'thelan's overturned chair and then onto the table, and was now proceeding to charge across the table, through everybody's food (save Halduron's, because the Ranger General was the only one to lift his plate out of the way in time) and straight towards...

"Rommath, _get down_!" Lor'themar roared. Rommath, who was at this point hiding his eyes behind one long-fingered hand, looked up just in time to see Whiskers come crashing paws-first into his plate before most of his food splattered onto his face and robes.

Utter silence fell in the banquet hall; several magi, warlocks, and even two Knight-Lords could be seen sliding towards the exits or abandoning all pride and shrinking under their respective tables. Aethas, who had just managed to get his arms around Little Master, went visibly pale and tried to hide the squirmy puppy under the long, flaring sleeves of his robe. Salandria dove behind Tae'thelan, who was half-sitting, half-slouching beside his overturned chair and trying not to look completely terrified for his life.

Liadrin was staring at the Grand Magister in wide-eyed horror, one hand over her gaping mouth and the other inching towards a discreet slit in her dress and the hidden blade strapped to her leg beneath. Lor'themar looked as though he would love absolutely nothing more than to slide under the table and kill himself with one of his own hidden blades before Rommath could react to what had just happened; Halduron seemed to be choking on something as he valiantly fought not to laugh outright at his colleague, who was now dripping with the majority of the food that had been on his plate.

Whiskers, similarly caked with food, sat as proudly in the middle of Rommath's dinner plate as though he had just caught a rat twice his size, and even gave the Grand Magister his sweetest little meow and batted at his nose... or where his nose was probably buried under the gravy and salad.

Lor'themar recovered first; hiding his face with one hand, the Regent Lord told the assembly at large, "My sincerest apologies, my lords and ladies. I must beg leave of you tonight; our servants have a great deal of work to do in order to clean up this... chaos. I will speak with each of you at your leisure. Good night, and a happy Winter Veil to you each."

Still hiding behind Tae'thelan, Salandria traded a terrified glance with Aethas as the guests began to file out, still chuckling to themselves--though more and more disgruntled mutters were beginning to sound among them. Aethas flicked his eyes towards a nearby servants' door, and then started to slide towards it as Lor'themar buried his face in his hands.

Salandria moved to follow, only to have Tae'thelan's hand close around the back of her jacket at the same time Lor'themar growled, "And where are the two of you going, _elflings_?"

Aethas froze, mere feet from his escape; a startled yelp sounded at about the same time, although whether it had come from the archmage or the puppy he still hid under his sleeves was unclear. Salandria would have yelped herself, but Tae'thelan had by now hoisted her off the ground by the back of her jacket like a large cat held by its scruff, and making noise of any sort was a little difficult at the moment.

"This is _your_ mess," Lor'themar told the two pet owners. " _You_ will help clean up the mess your animals made. _Both_ of you," he added severely, glaring at Aethas as the man opened his mouth to argue.

Halduron and Liadrin moved almost simultaneously: Halduron plucked Whiskers away from Rommath's plate before the Grand Magister, who still sat as unmoving as a stone statute, could decide he felt up for barbequed kitten. Liadrin, meanwhile, was off the dias and taking Little Master from Aethas in the space of a few heartbeats... and then everyone who was not a servant and who was not named Aethas or Salandria filed out of the banquet hall (or, in Rommath's case, was lead out by Lor'themar and another of the servants), leaving two very subdued elves at the mercy of several dozens of aggravated palace keepers.

It was not an entirely happy Winter Veil that year, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written because my last two Aethas fics were hard on everyone's feels. Hopefully this makes it better!


End file.
